Over Again
by Atarashila
Summary: Cullen(possibly)/Customed Naomi Hawke/Justice. This is a tale mostly focused around Naomi Hawke and her ironic position after becoming the Champion of Kirkwall. It is a tale of friendship, forgiveness, and possibly even love. I have videos revolving around my Hawke Character on Youtube, under "Atarashila," but I am reluctant to write the story in correspondence with them.


The air was warm and still moist with the taste of vintage wine from the Gallows' cellars. Naomi and Cullen had been sitting together on the balcony of the tower, continuing to discuss their pasts to one another. In actuality, Naomi had truly been the one drinking far more heavily than Cullen was. The Templar Captain insisted to have a slightly clearer head than his commander.

All the same, the two had never felt more close than when they were sharing a pint. For Naomi, drinking brought back the better days and for Cullen, it helped him to forget the worst. A templar and a mage; becoming the closest of friends was a situation that was extremely rare and probably something that only acquired through traumatic events that these two had been through.

It had to have been a type of event where the templar and the mage could look at one another and somehow became blinded by the fact that one was a mage or a templar; something that under any circumstance the other knew that they could entrust their own life to the person sitting next to them.

Despite of Naomi being a mage, she had proven time and again to Cullen in the past that she stood for the same basic morals that even a templar had. She had also conquered any threat that had ever came to Kirkwall, upon her arrival to the city. Therefore, Naomi had Cullen's respect. In return, Cullen had proved most of the same to Naomi as well. He was a good man, he fought for what he believed in, and his head was as pure as his heart. Not just as a templar, but as a human being, Naomi couldn't have asked for better qualities in a friend.

The chatter between them had eventually died down to a subtle mumbles between them and giggles. The moon casted shadows over their figures in the garden and between the hardened patches of concrete were small plots of where flowers and trees grew. Though it was controlled, their was a beautiful side to this place at night; a beautiful form of being carefree that drove them both to spend their time together here.

The two sat on a concrete bench, surrounded by the stone statues that were sculpted from the bards, and across from them was a large fountain that showed the image of Andraste in an elegant praying pose. It was the image of where Cullen's brown hues had rested last upon feeling Naomi's softened lips against his cheek.

The Knight-Captain turned slightly and looked back towards Naomi (the fellow woman in heavy clad armor of his superior) leaning towards him with her eyes closed and her mouth partially opened. Those silken warm lips, dripping with delicious honeydew mead, were probably the sweetest offering Cullen could have been tempted with for years. However, despite the invitation, the man of duty found himself leaning farther back away from her. It looked as if he tried for a subtle retreat.

Naomi's blue eyes opened to reveal the gloss of a heavy drinking glaze settled over them. She looked at him in question, but when she understood that she was to be rejected, the Knight Commander retracted away, pulling herself back to staring down at her drinking mug.

"I'm sorry…" She spoke softly, feeling her eyes swell from the tears.

Cullen frowned at her saddened expression; though soon was able to relax next to her once more. He shook his head and started to explain, but minute he tried his words easily tended to get mixed up time and again, making him more nervous than before.

"No, I'm sorry," He said and stared back at his fingers, pressing them together in rambling thoughts, "I mean it's not you, it's me. I mean, it's not me, it's us and … you know…us—"

Naomi sighed some and started to answer for him, "You don't have to say it, Cullen. I know. It is against Chantry law for any mage and templar to be together—"

"I-It's not that!" Cullen quickly argued, looking back at her. Then, of course, his brown eyes glanced away and his fidgeting began again. "I-I mean, that-is-the-Chantry-law,-and-yes-it's-something-we-should-abide-by-at-all-times-but… I mean, you are Hawke! The Champion of Kirkwall! You brought peace to both the Qunari Invasion and Kirkwall's last Right of Annulment."

"You're not putting me up on some high pedestal now too, are you?" She asked him wirily before tipping back her mug for a quick drinking. It was the only action she could keep doing to deflect an tears or softness from the way she must have appeared to him right then. Softness meant weakness, after all.

"Not at all! I mean, I do but…" Cullen found quickly that his fumbling was getting nowhere. He cleared his throat some and glanced back down to the concrete below them. "I'll just… shut up now, if that's all the same to you."

Naomi's eyes returned back to staring at the fountain in front of them. The silence started to form between them; the awkward kind. Feeling that she had to give at least some form of explanation if they were to ever return to normal again, she took in a heavy breath and sighed.

"It's just the mead in me, Cullen." She reassured him and forced a smile soon. "That, and the memories of someone dear to me keep returning. I thought that maybe…"

"Oh, no, I understand. Completely." Cullen found himself clearing his throat again and scratched his head.

The heavy metal armor felt cool against her skin when Naomi paused for the moment of staring into the water ahead in order to look back at him. "Do you… Do you have someone like that too?"

"Once… and she was beautiful…" He admitted as his grin grew on the memory of the Hero of Ferelden. How he always admired her beauty from afar, but never once had she seemed to revere him similarly in return.

"Oh? How do you cope?"

"I pray to the Maker for her safety as always, …have a few drinks…" Cullen noted while in his mind began mentally noting a few more, "masturbate—"

The abrupt snicker that quickly turned into melodious chuckles had soon sobered Cullen a little. His head swiveled to the direction of Naomi and seeing her bright smile and laughter. It was the laughter at him that made his cheeks turn scarlet.

"Well, I am human." He protested, feeling his cheeks warm and turn all the more redder.

She started to laugh harder.

"Knight Commander? Hawke! Surely you see that was a joke?" Cullen shouted, …or whined. It was really tough to tell due to his embarrassment and intoxication at this point in the conversation.

"Sure. Sure!" Naomi reached over with her gloved hand and patted his knee lightly in her display of comfort, though she was still in a fit of drunken giggles. Retreating her hands quickly back to her mug, the mage had soon tilted her drink up for another big gulp. "As long as we ask the Maker for forgiveness, we're all still forgiven. Right?"

Cullen attempted to relax some, but the only true accomplishment he had in this was taking a sip from the mug that rested beside him. The honeydew mead may have been warm by then due to the humidity, but it was still very sweet.

"Hm… That is what the Divine says." Cullen reassured her and soon the quiet stillness formed between them again. His eyes looked back at her expression once more, seeing that Naomi was still grinning from ear to ear; which compelled him to verbally protest again. "It 'was' a joke!"

Shaking her head some, Naomi still found herself in a bubble of giggles momentarily. "I said nothing."

"By the Maker… You're drunker than I am." The templar sighed and wobbled some back to his feet. He looked down at her and started to smile. Turning towards the direction of the stairs, Cullen started to walk on the path that would lead inside. "If you'll want to stay out here a little longer, I guess I'll bring you a blanket."

Naomi hadn't answered him. She still did her best to cover her giggling for the moment. After a short time had passed, the quiet stillness had returned. She was alone again, but she was at peace. All in all, it was a good evening to spend time with which friends who chose to stay beside her. Isabela had left for the opened seas about a month ago. Anders was presumed dead by most of the public. Varric was still at the Hanged Man, Aveline stayed in the rich parts of Hightown, and Fenris continued to remain at his old master's place.

However, Sebastian had left, swearing his revenge to Naomi and to the entire city once he had returned. The minute he had set his feet back on Kirkwall's soil, Naomi had been quick to hand over her appointed Viscount position in an agreement to keep the position as the Templar Commander. Even Naomi knew it was a position that she couldn't normally obtain, nor truly hold onto simply over the fact that she was a mage.

However, if Naomi didn't take that position the moment the opportunity left itself open, she knew that Sebastian would have used it to an even larger abuse. The Starkhaven Prince would misuse the position just to find Anders, and in doing so would most likely begin to neglect the true needs of Kirkwall's own Circle of Magi. For the sake of the people, that just simply could not happen. So, here she was; the Knight Commander and a Mage. A complete contradiction down to the very fibers of her being, and Naomi held onto this position tighter than Rock Armor coated over an armored chest plate.

However even then, she felt herself being pushed out of power and soon to be pushed out Kirkwall if Sebastian would ever choose to take his vengeance out on her as well. If she had lost this title, surely she would have had assassins after her. (While she might have already, she wasn't certain.) Naomi did not truly know if that would have been a possibility even, but she feared it and she didn't want Kirkwall going into an unnecessary war. She believed whole heartily that Starkhaven would have won against Kirkwall if that had happened. Her city had clearly been through enough violence.

"I am just an ember flickering in a dust filled cavern." She mumbled herself as her eyes started to close.

Nearly the moment she came close to meditating, her ears picked up the sound of the bushes across from her starting to rumble. Naomi opened her eyes and looked to see one of the most surprising sights entering her garden. There stood before her a familiar man dressed in a familiar combination of a Libertarian's cowl, Tevinter Robes, and a distinctive Renegade's Coat that carried raven feathers over the shoulder patches.

His vanilla skin and dark blonde hair left something to have been desired; as if he had spent way too long of a time away from the sunlight. His five o'clock shadow was thicker than from what Naomi remembered it and the lines around his face were slightly more creased than before, but she knew well of the white glow in the other man's eyes well.

It was Anders… No. That was not correct. It was Justice. She could tell from the glow of his eyes and cracks of light that broke out upon his skin.

Justice: The so-called noble spirit who convinced Anders to slaughter so many innocent people. He was in a full-bodied possession over Anders, which did leave an inkling for Naomi to wonder just how truly "good-natured" could a spirit like accept himself to be? Even Anders had dubbed the spirit a different name, "Vengeance;" a name that obscurely covered the Grey area between Black and White just as much as his initial name.

Naomi would have been quick to judge though. How dare he come back to Kirkwall after all the effort she had spent keeping the peace and rebuilding what had been destroyed. How dare he just think he could even present himself, or Anders for that matter, in Kirkwall at all! The feeling of betrayal festered in her heart and boiled her blood even after so much time has passed; even after the norm Naomi came close to establishing for "her city" once more. There was no forgiveness for what he and Anders had done.

"Why am I not surprised to find this to become of you? What are you doing here, of all places?" The possessed voice of the spirit demanded in a tone Naomi could not determine. It was either a combination of shock or anger, as if he had any right to feel betrayed from anything at all.

"You…" She grumbled in a drunken curse and raised her voice upon trying to stand. "How long were you there?"

"Long enough to watch you make a fool of yourself." Justice answered her promptly with a course of venom. He folded his arms as he started to walk towards her. "Have you no pride in you as a mage? None at all?"

Naomi turned away. She didn't want to hear this from someone like him; she didn't have to! How dare he start to even preach as if the Maker himself spoke through him! It would have been a lie, and they both knew that much. Naomi didn't have her blade equipped with her this one time. Even if she had blade, she didn't truly believe she could use it against him like this. She had done something similar before and the moment that she did, her heart felt cold and empty.

"You shouldn't be here." He continued to speak with such prejudice against the Order. "You are a mage! They are templars! What logic has that not been understood? It is dangerous for you to remain here surrounded by 'them,' and you know—"

She scowled mostly to her own weakness. After all, he was correct. If she wanted to truly guard herself against him, Naomi could have just as easily used magic to ward herself from him. However, the true reason behind it all was that she just simply did not want to hurt him anymore, and she didn't want to hurt anymore because of hurting him either.

Naomi's legs had felt heavy, being weighed down by the metal Knight Commander armor that she wore but the moment she was able to lift even one foot she moved it. In a quickened pace, she started to run to the direction of the building where she had felt safe. The direction of the Gallows. She could hear the voice of the spirit call after her and knew he was running behind her shortly.

"Don't follow me!" She shouted but she hadn't looked at him.

"Are you that quick to run to your death? Where do you think you're going?" Justice demanded in his anger upon giving his chase. He was close, but not close enough to have stopped her from running. Anders's body did have some limits, and Naomi had always proven to have been a little faster than him.

"Why should you care? It doesn't matter where I go! Just leave me alone!" She continued to shout back at him. Naomi huffed for air as her legs began to burn from muscle strain in her bursting sprint of energy. Her energy was draining fast and her left foot dragged against the ground. Because she was drunk, her motor skills were dulled, thus came the sudden fall next.

"I can't!" Justice admitted in a scowl and tried to reach her.

He tried to grab the armor and pull Naomi back to her feet, but in a swift motion upon crashing, the blonde woman spun with her all of her gall and threw her arm back so that she could knock his balance and loosen his grip from her. Naomi would rather fall. She would rather crash to floor and shatter a knee cap than to end up in the arms of "Anders" or "Justice" (or whoever he called himself at the time) ever again.

That is what had happened; except for the shattering knee cap part. The metal armor did have her protected from such impacts, but it was heavy and it did hurt when she fell. From behind her, Justice had taken a step backwards to regain his footing. They were both breathing hard from the run, but it only took him a minute to catch his breath.

"Are you alright?" He asked her finally and watched for any signs of serious injury.

She didn't really move other than sitting back up against the concrete and stone. Her head was held down but her eyes were glaring so far down at the solid marble that if she could shoot flames from them even the rock would have turned to lava by then.

"It's because you're wearing that heavy armor. Mages are not meant to wear something like that." He sighed and started to walk towards her side. When she hadn't answered, Justice reached down to offer her his hand. "Are you hurt? Naomi—"

Her hand swiftly raised back up in a dull swing and knocked the man's offering hand away again. Ocean blue eyes lifted from the ground but when they leveled to the steps in front of her, they too had dulled at the challenge before her.

"Maker… What is with you?" She mumbled and her expression sulked. Her voice had soon raised into angered shout once more. "Haven't you done enough?"

Justice had only leaned back and watched as the scorned, jaded woman pick herself back up like a resurrected entity and turned around to face him. She was crying. Her tears had seemed to only come in abundance over something he had done many times before, but these tears were different. They were not really remorse or regret; these were tears of pure anger. Naomi fisted her hands and glared at him with a posture that clearly had shown how emotionally scarred she was.

"I fought for everything I have! I can do whatever I want wherever I want, right? I don't have to answer to you or Anders! I did what you asked and without question! I gave you my trust to misuse and my mercy to exploit! You should have ran from Kirkwall! You should have ran to Ferelden or Tevinter! Somewhere you could heal and rebuild for your cause! It's none of my business, and my business should not be any of yours!"

Her scowling at him continued. She would have wiped the tears from her eyes, but everything she wore had felt just so heavy. Justice was right about the armor (at least when she was drunk), and Naomi didn't want to admit it.

"But you still chase after me. Are you stupid?" Naomi asked and shook her head to dry her eyes. Her anger rose and her words attempted to take the forms of weapons. "I hate you! I hate Anders! Leave me alone!"

He just looked at her. He hadn't made no move towards her, since it became clear that reaching for her would have only received another slap. He realized this emotion of bitter anger was due to him and Anders, but only at that moment had he realized just how deeply involved she had felt. It was that involvement that caused this anger, and Justice regretted it.

Of all the emotions he longed to have seen the most from her was her smile and her laughter. He had only seen those emotions once through Anders eyes, and they were at one time genuine. If that was what love was, then Justice came to understand that he would have wanted that love restored. Not just for Anders or for Naomi, but for himself as well. Justice wanted to love her, and he wanted her to love him through Anders again.

"I didn't ask you to look for me and I have nothing left to give! Haven't you done enough?" She asked and turned away from him.

The stillness between them began to rise once Naomi's drunken anger and bitterness subsided. Justice's glowing white eyes had looked back down at the ground. His vision focused more on her boots, seeing how Naomi had shifted her weight more onto the her stronger right foot from then onward.

"I'm sorry…" He finally spoke gently in return. "I just… I worry about you… Anders and I both."

Naomi glanced towards him, seeing the look of remorse from Justice. That depressed expression had seemed to wear Anders constantly like a cursed mask, and now she was seeing it through him to one belonging of Justice. Looking away, her neck held her head slightly higher against the wind. She had finally stopped crying now. There would have been no need for her to continue them.

"Stop it…" She replied and tilted her head away. Her memories of them together were difficult to fight back, and soon filled her mind. "Please… If you start being nice to me now, I'll end up liking it…"

Justice's eyes had finally lifted as he started to move towards her once more. "Naomi."

"Idiot! I don't want it!" Naomi closed her eyes and flinched away from him quickly. Though after her previous shout, her posture and voice had softened once more. "I don't want to ever go through that again..."

"You mean with… my judgment of the Chantry." He concluded though he didn't need Naomi's confirmation of it.

He already knew that was what she had meant. He watched her as she slowly had started to turn away and limp towards the building. Though before he could even stop himself, Justice's arm reached out this time and latched his wrist around Naomi's arm to try and keep her from moving. Her pace had halted this time, though he was uncertain as to whether it was because she wished to truly hear him out or if it was because her limping was just sore.

"I am in no place to ask for forgiveness," he began quickly while trying to think what he could say to her, "but there is a hole in this heart ever since. I cannot-will not-ask you to fix that, but do not carry your temperament of me against Anders or other mages."

"You're just saying that to use me again." Naomi frowned and turned back towards him. "I'm not going to be your puppet anymore!"

"No, you're wrong!" Justice argued and quickly pulled her more towards him.

His movement was abrupt and strong; far too much for Naomi to have struggled against within that one moment. He kissed her, pressing his tightened lips against her warmed slick ones. Her lips were softened and wet from the drink she had earlier. Even so, it was a feeling that felt right to him. Naomi's kiss was something that Anders wanted; what she had wanted. So, to kiss her had felt more natural to him than ever before.

However, to Naomi it was different. She pushed him away and slapped him across the face. The cold steel glove against his cheek was a quick awakening for Justice. He looked at her and watched her angered expression sadden and even frightened of him. His forehead pressed against Naomi's slowly, and gradually, he leaned more towards her lips for a second try.

Naomi had felt trapped like a cornered wild animal. She wanted to believe there was forgiveness in her heart for him, but the risk was so high. At the same time, the alcohol was swimming in her head, dulling her harsh judgments and sedating her fears. She knew want him and loved him still. It was not just Anders or Anders's body, of course, but the combination of him and Justice. She could not love one without the other, just as she could not have been heartbroken by just one and not the other. It was all or nothing and within his next slower kiss, she felt her succumbing to everything all over again.


End file.
